


Wearing O' The Green

by CrimzonChyld



Series: Domesticated [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Beta Read, PDA, PDA Phobic, Possesive Sam Winchester, Slash, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimzonChyld/pseuds/CrimzonChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>PDAs aren't really Dean's sorta thing.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Wearing O' The Green

**Author's Note:**

> **So this was supposed to be posted on St Patrick's Day obviously but I've not had the time, so it's three days late. I hadn't actually been planning to make this series holiday themed but I can't seem to help myself. Though really, the holiday isn't that prominent in this story, just an excuse for Dean to give Sam a pinch.**   
>  **FYI, lots of talk about butts in this one, I have no idea why.**   
>  **I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.**

Sam was in the kitchen, pouring himself a second cup of coffee when Dean shuffled in, squint-eyed and yawning. Sam would have thought he was adorable if it weren't for the fact that Dean was his brother and his brother would want to kick his ass for even thinking such a word in relation to himself.

Besides, Dean wasn't all that adorable in the baggy, grey sweat pants he wore. The dark green tee-shirt that looked at least one size to small and stretched across his chest and torso, that was fine but those pants . . .

Sam pursed his lips, one night he swore he was going to burn those things. They weren't _terrible_ . . . just baggy. His jeans were good, his briefs were good, his boxer briefs were good but those baggy sweat pants? Sam didn't care how warm and comfortable they were, they obstructed the view of Dean's ass. It's not that he didn't get to see it on a daily basis but could Sam help it if, whenever Dean was walking around in plain view, he'd like to be able to ogle said backside?

It was sort of ironic that he was thinking about backsides because as he turned towards the dining room while Dean poured his own coffee, Sam felt a sudden pinch to his own ass.

Sam nearly spilled his coffee over himself as he jumped and let out a very undignified yelp.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, whirling to face his now smirking brother, "What the hell?"

Dean just shrugged, "You're not wearing green."

"What?" Sam asked irritably.

"It's St. Patrick's Day, dude."

Sam huffed, "We're not even Irish, Dean!"

"That may be true," Dean agreed, "but I'll celebrate any holiday that encourages excessive drinking."

Sam snorted, "Like you need an excuse."

"If you haven't noticed, I don't drink as much as I used to." Dean pointed out, "I think this is as dry as I've been since . . . like, ever. I drink less now than I did when I was with . . ."

Dean trailed off. Sam knew he was thinking about Lisa. It made Sam often wonder if Dean regretted his decision to literally erase every trace of himself from their lives. Lisa and Ben would never remember him but Dean always would. It always made Sam feel horrible, like he was the reason that things ended with her the way they had. He couldn't make himself regret how their lives ended up though, not for a second.

"So, what's your plan for today?" Sam asked, needing to take that far away look off his brother's face. "Or in other words, how many bars are you planning on hitting?

"Just one," Dean said with a smirk. "You're coming with, Sammy."

Sam scowled because basically, Sam would be on babysitting duty, otherwise known as the designated driver. He didn't protest though, Dean deserved a little fun after all.

That's how the ended up in Doherty's Pub that night, surrounded by loud obnoxious people and drinking green beer.

Sam sat in a darkened corner, nursing his green beer and now wearing a string of green beads that had been foisted upon him by a very insistent, inebriated redhead. Dean had been playing darts and pool for fun instead of profit, though really, it mostly reminded Sam of their hunting days. Only Sam wasn't on his laptop doing research while Dean chatted with the locals and flirted with everything in a skirt. He sort of wish he had brought his laptop, anything was better than watching the girls in the bar watching Dean as he bent over the pool table. Although Sam knew that no one had rights to Dean's ass but him, he still wished he was the only one with leering rights as well. Somehow, telling himself that it didn't matter who flirted with Dean and who stared at him with lust in their eyes, Dean still went home with him, wasn't all that satisfying. Sam wanted to advertise his right to grope Dean but didn't particularly want to be punched in the face by his brother afterwards.

Dean had a PDA phobia.

Or maybe it was just a sharing PDAs with his _brother_ phobia. Even if no one in town knew they were brothers.

The important thing was that Dean appeared to be having fun, even if the women in the pub were starting to get a little touchy-feely as the night wore on.

When Dean finished his game, he sauntered over to sit with Sam, swaying a little in his seat.

"Dude, is that still your first?" Dean asked only slightly slurring, he was always able to handle his liquor but they'd been there for a few hours and Sam knew Dean had done shots at some point as well as the beer, and there was the whiskey too.

"Designated driver, dude." Sam sighed, then frowned. "Why is there green lipstick on your face?" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Hm? Oh," Dean wiped at the side of his face, "very friendly redhead, gave me this." He pulled out scrap of paper and handed to Sam.

It was a phone number with the name Cheri written in very curly letters. The "I" was even obnoxiously dotted with a heart.

Sam nodded, "Tell me something, was she twelve?"

Dean snorted and Sam asked, "Can I borrow your lighter?"

Dean handed over his zippo and Sam promptly lit the offending paper on fire and gave the lighter back to Dean who was chuckling.

"Whassamatter, Sammy?" Dean asked, "Jealous?"

"Not at all," Sam responded, dropping the charred paper in his almost empty glass. "Can we go now?"

"Alright buzz kill," Dean rolled his eyes and stood up with Sam, having to grab his arm to walk steadily,

"Y'know, we could stay if you wanted," Sam offered as he led Dean through the still crowded bar towards the exit.

Dean shook his head, "I drink anymore I won't be able to do what I wanna do when we get home."

Sam grinned as much from the word "home", which still hadn't lost its appeal all these month later, as the implications, "And what would that be?"

Without warning, Dean shoved him against the side of the bar and, as far as Sam could tell, tried to extract Sam's tonsils with his tongue. Sam definitely did not mind and since he couldn't talk, communicated as such by grabbing Dean's ass with both hands, pressing their bodies close together. Dean groaned into his mouth Sam smiled into the kiss.

It was only through the catcalls and cheers that Sam suddenly remembered that they were in a crowded bar and managed to extract himself from Dean's grasp long enough to haul him towards the door so they could leave. He passed by a very disgruntled looking redhead and repressed the urge to give her a smug smile.

It wasn't until he was in the Impala, with his drunk brother who promptly started to grope him while nipping at his exposed neck, that Sam realized that Dean had actually indulged in a very public mini make out in the bar. Sam had never minded PDAs and in fact loved to indulge in them at every moment because, truth be told, he liked to stake his claim for all to see. He understood that Dean didn't share his view and always tried to respect that. Tonight though, Dean made an exception, and whether it was the holiday or the drinking or wanting to send out a very clear message to the annoying redheaded chick with green lipstick who Sam was starting to suspect was a succubus, it didn't really matter. Dean got his point across.

And Sam was going to get his own point across when they got home.

Though, _that_ particular point was private.


End file.
